


Make Me Forget

by dreamingofwinter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comfort, Comfort Sex, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Intimacy, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Alteration, Praise Kink, Recovered Memories, Romance, Sex, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Spanish Inquisition, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22234354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingofwinter/pseuds/dreamingofwinter
Summary: After Crowley receives a commendation for the Spanish Inquisition, Aziraphale comforts the distressed demon in more ways than one. Afterwards, Aziraphale makes a decision that he alone must live with - until the world is reset after the almost-Armageddon, bringing back lost memories and a hurting and angry Crowley to his door, demanding answers.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> There is sex in chapters 1 and 3; it’s fairly detailed but not quite venturing into the explicit (I don’t think). Do let me know if you think I need to up the rating though.  
> Hope you enjoy!

**_Seville, around 1500 AD_ **

Aziraphale took the offered seat near the fireplace. It sparked and crackled to life as he sat, bathing the room in a warm glow, shadows dancing on the walls. The angel sipped his wine thoughtfully as he stared into the flames, mind elsewhere. 

He had been drawn to this little dwelling on the outskirts of the city by the terrible sadness that radiated from it. Aziraphale had traced the feeling, assuming he would come across someone in need whom he could help, but as he drew nearer, was surprised to feel the familiar buzz of demonic energy. Whatever had happened to Crowley was definitely not good; Aziraphale could sense the devastation as he approached. 

It transpired that Crowley had not long awoke, after having slept for the entirety of the previous two weeks. Distressed to find his friend in pain and not talking, Aziraphale had insisted on coming in, and was now sat there wondering what on Earth had got the demon in such a state.

It was Crowley’s pacing that drew his thoughts back to the present. The demon seemed unable to sit still, and was restless, agitated. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began, softly, coaxing. “Won’t you tell me?”

“Nothing to tell,” Crowley muttered, without tearing his eyes from the bottom of his goblet.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” Aziraphale said gently. “What happened?”

Crowley looked up, yellow serpentine eyes wide. 

“You know what’s happened. You know what’s going on out there, what they’re doing!” He gestured towards the window, voice raised.

“Yes, I know.” Aziraphale spoke patiently. “I’m talking about what happened to _you_. What did you _do_ , Crowley? Perhaps I can-“

Aziraphale was cut off by a loud crash as the demon threw his cup against the wall, wine splashing onto the floor. He was shaking now, his anger visible in his corporeal form.

“I didn’t _do_ anything, that’s the point! I told you! They’re doing it to themselves, the bloody stupid, evil...” Crowley trailed off, expression changing, his voice almost becoming a hiss. “No, that’s me, isn’t it? Evil, evil personified. A terrible demon who does terrible things, tempting humans to murder and torture and-“

“ _No_.” Aziraphale spoke the single word firmly and loudly, unshaken by Crowley’s outburst, cutting the demon off before he could go any further. “Crowley, you might be a demon but that does not automatically make you evil. I know full well your temptations would never intentionally go that far.”

“They gave me a commendation, angel.” Crowley gazed down at Aziraphale sadly, the whites of his eyes now completely eclipsed by yellow. “They thought it was me who started it. Thought I could do those things. But do you want to know the worst part? I _let_ _them_. I let them believe it.” He shook his head, voice full of sadness and regret.

“Now tell me I’m not evil.” He closed his eyes as he moved to stand by the fire, leaning on the mantelpiece.

The last thing he expected was Aziraphale to rise from his chair to stand beside him, resting a hand on his arm. Crowley‘s eyes flew open and he started at the the unexpected contact, but did not pull away. He stood still, eyeing the angel warily.

“You’re not evil, Crowley.” Aziraphale almost whispered in his ear owing to their close proximity. The words made Crowley’s heart ache; he wished so badly he could believe them. He began to shake his head again, feeling overwhelmed that the angel would reassure him so. 

“You’re _not_. We’ve been friends for thousands of years. Millennia, even. I _know_ you. You’re not just a demon who wiles and tempts. You have a conscience, and you can be thoughtful and kind.” Now that Aziraphale had started he was unable to stop, the words flowing freely and easily. 

“No, no. I’m not. I’m not _kind_. I’m a demon. _Unworthy_.” Crowley whispered, shaking his head, snake-like eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m no good for anything, angel. ‘m not even a good demon. A bad demon? Who knows.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, preparing to bare his soul if it meant Crowley saw just how much he meant to him, how deep his feelings truly ran. He knew he shouldn’t. But he had to.

 _For Crowley._ _He needs to know, now more than ever._

“You’ve been there for me when no one else was. When my lot were busy ridiculing me for being different, for making stupid mistakes. You’ve kept me company, you’ve made me laugh, you’ve never _judged_ me. Crowley, without you, I would have felt so lost, so alone on this Earth with no one else to share it with. Well, certainly no one as significant as you.”

The tears that had been pooling in Crowley’s eyes now fell thick and fast as the demon began to come undone by Aziraphale’s sincerity. He hardly noticed the angel pulling him into his arms until he realised he was being held tightly in a warm embrace. Crowley did not reciprocate so much as sink into it, now openly sobbing as Aziraphale’s arms stroked his back while the angel whispered sweet endearments into his ear. 

After several minutes, the sobs subsided and Crowley seemed to come back to himself. Suddenly, Aziraphale found himself being pushed away, Crowley’s face contorted with grief and disgust.

“Don’t touch me, you mustn’t. I’m a demon, _filthy, impure_. I don’t deserve kindness. Especially not yours,” he spat, the words ingrained into him by the Masters of Hell. 

Aziraphale was having none of it, and looked absolutely furious.

“How _dare_ you refer to yourself as such, Crowley! You are my _best friend_ , and I won’t have it! You’re -“ Aziraphale floundered for a moment, seeking an appropriate word. When one finally came - the one he had felt before he had thought, the one he had been feeling for many centuries now - he strode forwards with purpose, closing the gap between them once more. 

To Crowley’s amazement, Aziraphale placed his hands on either side of the demon’s face and met his eyes in an intense gaze.

“You’re _loved_.” 

Before Crowley could protest, before he even knew what was happening, Aziraphale’s lips were upon his and he was being kissed furiously in an outpouring of love and devotion.

Crowley‘s body responded almost immediately of its own accord as he kissed Aziraphale back, opening his mouth to grant the angel entry. He was being taken over by an entirely new sensation, one that burned hotter than Hellfire yet soothed like a balm. It was a while before his mind caught up and he came to his senses.

 _Wait. We can’t. He’s an angel..._

“Wait, stop,” Crowley gasped between kisses, fighting his inner desires and attempting to push the angel away once more. “You can’t do this. _You’ll Fall_.”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort.” Aziraphale assured confidently. “If I was going to Fall, it surely should have happened sooner, when I first fell in love with you, I suppose. Oh!” Aziraphale quickly realised what he had let slip, and blushed a rose colour. “I didn’t quite mean for it to come out like that.”

He was cut off by Crowley’s lips claiming his, as the demon kissed him with fervour. Aziraphale _wanted_ this. Who was Crowley to deny him, especially when he had desired the very same thing for so long?

“Love you too, angel,” Crowley gasped between kisses that grew in passion and heat. “Always have.”

Arms wrapped around each other and hands clawed at layers of clothing as they kissed and kissed as though it was their last night on Earth. 

Then they were moving towards the bed, still kissing, each caught up in the other as they guided one another to their mutually desired destination. Aziraphale’s hands tore at Crowley’s buttons as Crowley tugged and pulled at the angel’s jacket. 

“You really want this, angel?” Crowley murmured, slowing his movements. Aziraphale barely responded to the change in pace as he continued kissing with eagerness and sliding buttons from holes. 

“Yes. Oh _God_ , yes.” The angel’s voice was full of longing and a hint of desperation as he recaptured Crowley’s lips. 

“Oh. Sorry.” He quickly stopped and glanced upwards as he realised his blasphemy, making Crowley snort with laughter. He gave the demon a reproachful look, then grinned and almost sniggered. The look on Crowley’s face was priceless. 

They undressed each other in mere seconds, the urge strong after years of repressed _wanting_. Crowley reclined on the bed, motioning for Aziraphale to join him, drawing him into his arms as he clambered up. They lay there for a moment, gazing at one another as they held each other close, basking in this new feeling of intimacy, sharing lazy kisses as Aziraphale leaned gently on Crowley’s chest.

Aziraphale brushed an unruly strand of flaming red hair from the demon’s face. 

“You’re beautiful, Crowley. In every sense of the word.”

The compliment made Crowley’s heart leap, but _that voice_ at the back of his mind just had to keep chipping away, had to keep reminding him.

“I wish that were true,” the demon smiled sadly, giving his head a small shake.

“It _is_. I know you’re having a difficult time, my dear. If there is anything I can do to ease your pain, absolutely _anything_ -“

“Make me forget, angel.”

 _Oh, Crowley._

Aziraphale swallowed. “I will, my dear, if that is what you want. But-“ he cupped Crowley’s face, cradling his cheek softly “-know this is not the only reason I’m doing this. I care ever so deeply for you, Crowley.”

“I know. Just want to forget what I _am_ , just for tonight.”

Aziraphale’s heart broke for the demon.

He could tell him right there and then that he would not allow him to forget that, because that was part of him. It made Crowley who he was, and Aziraphale loved him _for_ it, not despite it. But that was not what Crowley needed to hear, not now, so Aziraphale decided to show him instead.

The angel kissed Crowley with bruising force, pouring his very heart and soul into it. The demon gasped at his eagerness, matching Aziraphale’s enthusiasm as he kissed him back.

The angel’s hands roamed Crowley’s body, mapping out every line, every valley. He kissed his way down the demon’s chest, hungry to taste every inch of his skin. Aziraphale, feeling braver by the second, swept deft fingers further and further towards his target before cupping Crowley and taking him in hand. 

The demon moaned at the contact, the sound positively obscene. It lit a fire in Aziraphale that burned bright enough to consume him, consume both of them. He needed _more_ , needed to elicit more of those delightful sounds of arousal from Crowley.

Gently working his length, Aziraphale scorched the demon’s body with red hot kisses as Crowley’s fingers dug into his hips then danced across thighs, beginning to lose himself in the sensation. Aziraphale burned with desire as he lifted his head to take in the alluring view of Crowley in his heightened state of arousal. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to Crowley’s neck and chest, the angel moved down, down his body, tasting every inch of him.

There was a small bottle of oil on the nightstand. Perhaps it was there by unconscious miracle, perhaps by chance; Aziraphale did not know. Reaching for it, the angel uncorked the bottle and kissed Crowley deeply.

As Aziraphale prepared him, Crowley allowed the sensations to take over his body, releasing his inhibitions and choosing to trust the angel in the most intimate way possible. Aziraphale gently stretched and massaged as Crowley let out a moan, the sensation unfamiliar but not unpleasant. The voice that constantly belittled the demon was quietened, no longer chastising. 

“Ready?” Aziraphale asked softly after a while, his bright blue eyes searching for any discomfort on his demon’s face. They found none, and Crowley mumbled a _yes_ through the beginnings of his pleasure as he ran his hands up and down the angel’s hips.

Aziraphale pushed in gently, gasping as he felt Crowley‘s heat tighten around him, the demon’s eyes widening, holding his gaze as he did so. There was a reverent look of awe upon Crowley’s face, and he whispered Aziraphale’s name as though it were sacred. The air between them was charged, each enraptured by the other, by the moment.

“ _Angel_.” Crowley breathed, and Aziraphale came to and began to move. He thrust into Crowley at an agonisingly slow pace, revelling in the sounds he was eliciting from his demon and the sensation of being inside him. Leaning down to kiss his lips, Aziraphale offered words of praise and endearment to his beloved.

“Crowley, my dearest. You feel _incredible_. I love you, I adore you, you’re _everything_ to me.” Aziraphale murmured into the demon’s neck, peppering it with kisses as he moved in and out in a steady rhythm. Crowley writhed beneath him and shuddered, opening wide eyes that had changed to a deep amber hue. Aziraphale’s words ignited something inside him, a feeling that made the physical sensations all the more pleasurable.

“Please, angel... _more_.” Crowley gasped, scratching at Aziraphale’s back as he tried to pull him even closer. “ _Tell me_.”

It was with those two words that Aziraphale realised it was his praise that Crowley wanted just as much as the rest of it. Recognising the need, he sat back and pulled out a little, pushing his hands through Crowley’s flame-red hair, slowing the movements of his hips momentarily and adjusting his angle to push even deeper into the demon. The feeling was _divine_.

“Oh you are wonderful, beautiful, my dearest friend, my _lover_. You complete me,” Aziraphale managed, as he tried to keep his slow, steady pace. They locked eyes for a moment, expressions awash with passion, the depth of their love reflected in them. “Your eyes... they’re like pools of molten gold, like I can see your very soul in them. Being with you, being _in_ you... is _ecstasy_.”

Crowley clung to Aziraphale, surrendering himself to the angel completely as Aziraphale snapped his hips quicker, craving more. Here, in this room, in this bed, it no longer mattered what they were, only that they were each other’s; two souls entwined as one. Aziraphale was Crowley’s salvation; erasing the pain with every thrust, every kiss, every whispered word; untying the knots of self loathing in the demon’s soul. 

He quickened his pace again, causing Crowley to cry out and call the angel’s name like a prayer as Aziraphale hit the sweet spot inside him over and over again. Aziraphale felt the tension building as he drank in the beauty of Crowley’s lithe body as the demon arched his back, his expression euphoric. 

“Oh _Crowley_ , I’m -“

“ _So close_ ” the demon breathed, both finishing Aziraphale’s sentence and speaking for himself.

They clung to each other as they rocked together, Aziraphale unwilling to let go until Crowley was ready to step off the precipice with him.

They kissed messily, mouths desperately seeking each other as they chased their pleasure. Aziraphale could hear Crowley mumbling _I love you, I love you_ again and again, heard himself beg the demon to give him even more of himself, _Crowley, please_. Their words disappeared into incoherent mutterings then slipped into gasps and pleasured moans, increasing in volume until they finally tensed against each other, finding their release together, falling over the edge and soaring up, up towards the stars as one.

........................

They lay entwined on the bed, heartbeats beginning to slow as they came down from their blissful high. 

Crowley was swimming in tranquility, his head devoid of all thoughts besides _Aziraphale_ , his body awash with a calm stillness that he had not known since before the Fall. He knew it would not last long so simply lay there, drifting in the wonderful sensation the blissful peace brought, refusing to pull himself out of his reverie to face what came next.

Still wrapped in their embrace, they kissed again, slowly and languidly. 

It was only then that Aziraphale realised Crowley’s face was once again wet with tears.

“Crowley?” He asked tentatively. 

“Sorry, angel. Didn’t mean to ruin the moment.” Crowley mumbled, brushing a hand across his face. 

“You couldn’t possibly ruin anything, my dear. That was simply... _exquisite_. How do you feel?” Aziraphale could sense they were not tears of sadness this time.

“Dunno... overwhelmed? That an _angel_ would-“

“You don’t have to use what I am to justify your feelings, my love. I might be an angel and you a demon, but that does not make either one of us any more or less deserving than the other. We both have capacity to love and be loved, Crowley - yes, _both_ ,” he added, as the demon opened his mouth to protest. 

There was a moment of silence with the exception of the crackling of the fire and the odd sniff from Crowley. 

“Wanted you - _needed_ you for so long, angel. Ever since I saw you standing on the wall in the Garden... ever since you told me about your flaming sword and sheltered me from the rain... I knew you weren't like the others. You’re different. _Special_.” Crowley whispered the last word as though it were a secret only the two of them knew.

Aziraphale smiled. “Come now, I’m nothing great or grand. Just a Principality. Not a terribly good one at that.” He gave a low chuckle. “But I appreciate you saying so all the same. And, if we are to be honest, I’ve... I’ve _longed_ for you, Crowley, for quite some time.”

Crowley breathed an oh, the words stirring something inside him.

“I love you so much, angel.” The demon buried his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, and the angel wrapped his arms more tightly around him in a protective embrace. He wished he could shut out the world, shut out the hateful voices that whispered spiteful things to Crowley, and hold his demon here, like this, forever. 

There was still a tiny part of Crowley that would not be persuaded that Aziraphale’s feelings were genuine, that this was nothing more than him simply giving Crowley what he needed out of pity. Yet for the rest of him, Crowley knew that Aziraphale had meant every word he had said. Nothing Crowley could do - nothing Aziraphale could do - would ever truly erase the metaphorical scars, but being with the angel like this and feeling his love encompass him as though he were bathing in sunlight - this numbed the pain. 

Crowley felt himself slipping into slumber once more, this time sated and peaceful instead of emotionally wrought and at odds with himself. The last thing he was aware of before sleep finally took him was the feeling of the angel pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and a soft voice reminding him he was loved.

..............................

Aziraphale was unsure how many hours it had been since Crowley had slipped into a deep sleep; he had been unable to take his eyes off the demon, in awe of his raw vulnerability and the depth of his honesty. He had had quite a while to think.

Crowley loved him. Crowley loved him _back_. 

The words that were spoken had been like nectar to the angel, winding themselves around his soul and making it sing. Now though, they gripped tighter like iron, squeezing painfully, making it difficult to breathe. 

There was no going back now. After tonight, nothing would be the same again. He had been so reckless, acting upon his feelings like that. He had long suspected Crowley felt the same.

No matter what happened next, Aziraphale knew that this was all about to spiral out of control quicker than he could reel it in. He knew they would be unable to resist each other no matter how strong their resolve; they would always come back to each other and would be compelled to share their love again and again.

They had lifted the lid on their own Pandora’s box and it would be impossible to close it now, their deepest desires and secrets and feelings out in the open, in the shared space between them. 

It was so beautiful, yet so, so dangerous. 

If Aziraphale’s superiors found out about them, he would be in terribly deep trouble. He might even Fall. Whilst this had always been the angel’s greatest fear, he now found there was something else that took precedence over his own safety and status as a celestial entity.

_Crowley_.

Aziraphale’s first fear with regards to Falling was no longer the intense pain, the immense suffering, or the severing of his bond with the Almighty. It was whether Crowley would still accept him if it changed who he _was_ , inside.

If Crowley’s superiors discovered their dalliance or the fact that he was in love with an angel, there was a very good chance he would be tortured at the very least, made an example of. There was also a chance he would be killed. After all, he couldn’t Fall twice. And if Heaven found out, it wouldn’t be long until they informed Hell of their discovery. 

The angel could not take the risk. 

He would do _anything_ to protect Crowley. Even from himself, and what loving him could bring.

Carefully and reluctantly releasing Crowley from the comfort of his arms, Aziraphale sat on the edge of the bed and watched the demon sleep for a while longer, knowing it was their confessions of love and tender lovemaking that had pulled him out of his earlier dark moments. Aziraphale felt a terrible conflict growing inside him, and almost changed his mind about what he was about to do. 

Before his heart could rally more strength against his head, Aziraphale concentrated his celestial energy and placed his hand upon Crowley’s auburn locks as he reached into his consciousness. The demon shifted a little but did not wake. Aziraphale felt almost guilty with relief; he knew he would be unable to finish the task if Crowley awoke.

After a few moments, Aziraphale opened his eyes that now brimmed with tears and drew his hand away, taking with him the demon’s memory of their night together with a stifled sob.

..............................

When Crowley woke the next morning, he felt lighter, as though he had been unburdened somehow. He found he was less affected by the commendation, and wondered if it was because he had discussed it with Aziraphale the night before. The angel had always maintained that it helped to talk about one’s problems. Still, he couldn’t remember doing all that much talking before he had obviously fallen asleep again. _Too much wine, perhaps_ , he thought, spotting the pair of goblets. Aziraphale must have let himself out shortly after. 

Pity. He relished his time with the angel, no matter how short it sometimes was. Crowley pondered over when he would next see Aziraphale again, his heartbeat quickening at the idea of _perhaps soon_. 

Perhaps one day he would find the courage to put his feelings into words. For now, he poured them into passing glances and longing gazes, wishing the angel could see it whilst at the same time sincerely hoping he could not.

Crowley sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. He had already been knowingly pining for Aziraphale for a good few centuries, loving him without realisation for millennia. The demon knew it was hardly realistic to think he would actually confess all one day, and just about impossible for the angel to reciprocate his feelings. 

..............................

A little further from the outskirts of the city, an angel sat at a table in a small one-roomed lodging. Head in his hands, he openly sobbed as he mourned the loss of an ever-longed for possibility, grieving the fledgling romance he had forced himself to end before it had even begun. 

_At least Crowley won’t have to live with knowing the pain of giving up what we came so close to having, what we allowed ourselves for one night_. 

It was a burden he would carry alone, refusing to inflict it upon Crowley and force him into a miserable existence as well.

Aziraphale had spent many a day and night wondering whether he was doing the right thing. This occasion was no different, though the stakes had been higher. It was the cruelest of kindnesses. 

Now all he had to do was get through eternity, living with his silent burden of love and his guilt over what he had done in the name of it.


	2. Chapter Two

_**London, two days after Almost-Armageddon** _

Crowley had felt flashes of a phantom touch as he dozed fitfully the previous night. He had fallen asleep in his chair for a couple of hours, the day’s events having caught up with him, whilst Aziraphale sat close by, sipping cocoa and studying the prophecy at great length.

Crowley had jolted awake as a whisper of _something, someone_ echoed in his head, pulling him back to his senses. At first, the demon was relieved he had managed to escape what he thought would be the inevitable nightmares of burning bookshops and the appearance of Satan himself. He felt unsettled though, groggy, as he failed to clutch at the dream’s remnants and piece together what it had been about. 

He couldn’t remember anything more than an incoherent low whispering and what he thought was the feeling of hands ghosting over his bare skin. He had felt vulnerable but not afraid, as though wherever he was and whatever was happening had been a conscious choice. 

When Crowley awoke, there had been no time to process it, no time to figure out what it meant. There were far more pressing matters to attend to. 

...................................

Once Crowley returned to his own corporation after spending a handful of hours in Heaven as Aziraphale, he was surprised to find the flashes returning during his conscious moments, even stronger now, commanding him to _remember_. 

_Remember what?_

As he dined with Aziraphale, he briefly brushed hands with the angel as he poured them more champagne, which caused a most peculiar outcome. Crowley was used to the feelings of electricity that had passed between them in their years of furtive glances and accidental touches, but he had never experienced anything like _this_.

_He was no longer sitting at their little table in the Ritz. Aziraphale was holding his hand, stroking his cheek as he whispered endearments into his ear next to a fifteenth century fireplace. He felt a resounding sadness which was slowly ebbing away with Aziraphale’s words, his touch. Then -_

“Crowley? Is everything alright, my dear?”

The Aziraphale that was physically next to him interrupted his reverie and came back into focus, Crowley becoming aware of the low noise and goings on around him again.

“Yes! Yeah, just, you know, taking it all in,” he answered quickly. Aziraphale gave him a quizzical look, but said nothing more as the topic of conversation turned to other things.

_Maybe it was something to do with that dream last night_.

Yet Crowley felt uneasy, as though there was something not quite right about it. It was too detailed, too vivid, as though he had tried to commit something to memory before it slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. Usually, any dream about the angel would be remembered for some time after he awoke; sometimes playing on his mind for days. It was both a blessing and a curse.

...................................

After their delightfully relaxed dinner that just so happened to include more accidental brushing of hands and gazes that bordered on the edge of adoration, they retired to the newly restored bookshop for more wine.

Some time into the night, Crowley fell asleep on the settee as he had done countless times before, whilst Aziraphale pottered around him happily. Sleep came as a welcome relief after the events of the past week.

...................................

“ _You’re loved.”_

_They were back in the little lodging in which Crowley remembered spending a few years in in Spain. Aziraphale’s hands cupped Crowley’s cheeks as he closed the gap between them, kissing him with fervour._

_More kissing, then they were undressing, hands roaming each other’s bodies, the radiance of their love apparent in their actions, their words, their auras._

_“Make me forget.”_

_They were entwined on the bed, holding each other. The words echoed in Crowley’s head as they came together in passion._

_“I love you, I love you, I love you.”_

Crowley sat bolt upright with a start, gripped with shock.

It wasn’t a dream.

_He remembered_. 

...................................

Sunlight was starting to filter in through the curtains, the hazy summer morning just beginning. Crowley lay there, eyes closed, listening for Aziraphale and trying to work out whether he could slip out of the shop without having to face him. Gentle clinking sounds could be heard from the kitchen, the aroma of fresh coffee soon accompanying them. 

Crowley’s stomach churned as he rose to his feet, staggering towards the door. He couldn’t _think_. He remembered everything, every detail from that night as though he were reliving it all over again. In a way, he was. 

_We said all that. We did all that... and he took it away from me_. 

He _couldn’t think_ , couldn’t reason; just pulled open the door and almost ran down the stairs and through the shop, the door banging behind him. Jumping into the Bentley, he threw himself into the seat and slammed the door behind him, heart pounding. 

Crowley sat for a moment on the verge of hyperventilating, hands gripping the steering wheel, his mind a hurricane of thoughts. Something made him glance at the shop, and he saw Aziraphale peering out of the upstairs window, staring at him wide-eyed with an expression of concern. Crowley tore his eyes away and started the engine. Before he faced the angel, he first had to figure out what to do with this newly restored memory. 

The car roared to life and Crowley pulled away with speed, leaving a bewildered angel staring down at the now empty parking space.

...................................

Crowley sat at his plush gold throne with red cushions, head in his hands as he allowed the memory to flood through him.

He had so many questions.

And he was so very, _very_ angry.

All the years he had spent pining for Aziraphale, being hopelessly in love with him, waiting for him to catch up yet never really expecting him to, only to find they had already _been_ together - initiated by the angel, no less.

_Why did he erase the memory? Why did he stay the night in the first place, if he regretted it so much he didn’t want it to be remembered, to be real?_

Aziraphale’s outburst a few days ago at the bandstand had perhaps stung worse than any other argument or cross words they had had previously. But this... this was pain like he had never experienced.

All this time, Aziraphale had known exactly how Crowley felt about him, and exactly how deep those feelings ran.

Over the course of the following few days, Crowley stamped around his flat, shouting at his plants, at God, at Satan, at no one. 

The phone rang every now and again; Crowley knew it was Aziraphale. Each time he would shout at that too, yelling at the answerphone that he had nothing to say to him, yet shortly after thinking of a hundred questions he so desperately wanted to ask. The cycle continued for a little longer until Crowley could no longer bear the storm of emotions, and retreated to his bedroom.

It had been nearly a week since the memory was restored; a week of shouting, swearing, and breaking things. Now, he felt exhausted and emotionally broken; collapsing into bed in his serpent form, he coiled himself tightly under the black silk sheets and hoped the pain would finally dull.

_Why did you take this from me, angel?_

He curled in on himself tighter for comfort, and allowed sleep to finally take him.

...................................

To say Aziraphale was worried was putting it lightly. 

Almost three weeks had passed since Crowley had stormed out without a word, and the angel had been unable to contact him since. At one point, he had almost gathered enough courage to contemplate going round to his flat, but nerves had got the better of him and he had quashed the idea, reasoning that whatever Crowley was worked up about clearly required some space for himself. 

It had done nothing to stop the worrying though; Aziraphale would jump at the sound of the bell tinkling above the door, rushing to see if it was the demon and being bitterly disappointed each time when it was not. 

Aziraphale was quite sure Crowley was not in serious trouble; if Heaven or Hell had broken their promise and gone after him, he was certain he would have heard something by now. Which only left one option.

Crowley was either angry, upset, or both. _With him_.

For the past week, Aziraphale had spiralled downwards into a pool of despair that almost bordered on self loathing. He replayed every moment he had been unkind to Crowley over and over in his head, revisiting old arguments and even dredging up their bickering jests. The angel had been trying to pinpoint what had been Crowley’s tipping point, what had been the last straw that had led to the demon’s departure now, of all times.

They were finally safe. They could be indulging in their friendship out in the open, no longer needing to worry about secrecy and sides, just being themselves, until God decided otherwise. 

They could be _more_.

Aziraphale swallowed, performing the familiar routine of pushing down old memories that threatened to resurface; memories of soft touches, heated kisses, entwined bodies...

_No. Stop torturing yourself. He’ll be back when he’s ready. Then we can see where things are, work out what page we can get to together_.

Aziraphale’s feelings hadn’t changed, even after all these years, but he had learned to control them. Well, most of the time. Sometimes, when he felt them especially strongly, he would inadvertently be particularly mean or difficult to Crowley, fearing them so strong they might bleed to the surface and be discovered. 

Of course at the time, he had been so invested in his cover-up that he hadn’t realised what damage his reactions were doing to Crowley. 

Now, feeling alone and slightly more afraid than he cared to admit, he would just have to wait for Crowley to come to him. This time, it was the demon’s turn to make the first move. 

...................................

The little bell tinkled above the bookshop door. Aziraphale still glanced up half hopeful, but had stopped leaping up and dashing to the front to see who had entered. It was never the only person he desperately wanted it to be. 

Today, however, it would seem that his prayers had finally been answered.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed with delight, hurrying to stand up from his desk, his expression full of relief as the demon sauntered in through the front door. 

“Oh thank goodness, wherever did you get to, my dear? I’ve been so worried, you weren’t answering my calls -“

The angel was cut off abruptly as Crowley strode across the room, seized him by the lapels and pushed him forcefully against the nearest bookshelf. 

He was about to exclaim in protest when the demon kissed him.

It was not a gentle kiss; it was forceful, demanding. Aziraphale was taken aback, momentarily frozen to the spot, but after a few seconds kissed him back nonetheless, opening his mouth to allow Crowley entry.

Suddenly, almost as soon as he had started, Crowley stopped, releasing Aziraphale roughly and taking a couple of steps back. The angel briefly gulped for air and desperately wished he could see Crowley’s eyes behind his dark glasses, wondering whether they had turned that beautiful shade of amber.

“My dear boy, wherever did that come from?” Aziraphale was both awed and concerned, shaken by the force behind it, the raw emotion.

Crowley’s reply was something Aziraphale had never, in all of eternity, expected.

“You tell me, it’s not the first time after all.”

Aziraphale’s heart plummeted. 

_He knows_.

_How_?

Aziraphale forced the single word out, afraid of the answer. His head was spinning. This wasn’t _possible_.

“Adam I’m guessing, when he reset the world, put things back to how they _should be_.” Crowley drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. He tore his dark glasses off, tossing them onto the desk to reveal yellow eyes with a dangerous glint. “That’s right, even the Son of Satan thought I deserved the courtesy of remembering our first night together.”

“I - I can explain,” Aziraphale stuttered weakly, frantically attempting to find a way to put what had happened into words.

“Oh, I bet. What was it, Aziraphale? Woke up ashamed of what you’d done? Wanted to make sure I’d never be able to bring it up, never remind you of the moment you sullied your celestial body with the likes of me?” He hissed angrily.

“Crowley, _no_!” Aziraphale cried indignantly. “Of course not, it was _nothing_ like-“

“So what _was_ it like then, hmm? Didn’t have the courage to tell me the truth, that you didn’t really feel those things for me? That it was all said out of pity?”

“I do feel those things, it was the truth! It still _is_ ,” Aziraphale added sadly in little more than a whisper.

Crowley pretended not to hear. He was still hurting, and he’d be _damned_ if the angel wasn’t going to suffer for what he was going through.

“No, no, no, you’ve led me all over the place for too long, Aziraphale. Accidentally on purpose bumping into me and talking me into taking you for dinner. Getting yourself into all kinds of trouble to get me to come and rescue you. Not to mention the looks, those _bloody looks_ , giving me the innocent puppy dog eyes whenever you want something,” he spat. Crowley had worked himself up now, and if he was becoming acrimonious he didn’t care. There was no stopping him. 

“And between all that, _you_ say we aren’t friends, we’re on opposite sides, you don’t even _like_ me. Funny that, people who don’t like each other don’t usually _sleep together_.”

_“_ Crowley, _please_.” Aziraphale was beyond flustered, his eyes swimming with tears, still stood fast in the same place the demon had backed him into a few minutes ago.

“Oh, I’ve heard that one before.” There was something malicious in Crowley’s tone.

_“Oh Crowley, you’re everything to me_ ,” the demon mimicked the angel’s words from the memory viciously. 

Aziraphale’s resolve finally broke.

“ _Don’t_ ,” his voice cracked and silent tears began to roll down his cheeks as he sagged against the bookshelf behind him. “ _Please, don’t_.” 

Aziraphale was begging now, despite mentally promising himself he would let Crowley say his piece when he realised the situation. He knew he had no right to be upset that the demon was hurting and angry, but the sharp words and barbed comments and the way Crowley had ripped through the exquisitely oiled canvas of their only night together... it was _too much_.

“I know you hate me, you have every right to-“

Crowley let out a roar of frustration. 

“I don’t _hate_ you, Aziraphale! I _love_ you.” 

..........................

Silence fell between them, both stunned by Crowley’s admission. He hadn’t meant to say it, and certainly not under these circumstances... it just _slipped_.

Crowley was calm in an instant, his own words shocking him out of his ire. He snatched his glasses up from the desk and slid them back onto his face.

“I need to go,” he muttered, heading towards the front door.

Crowley’s imminent departure unfroze Aziraphale, who intercepted him just before he could put a hand on the doorknob, the angel covering it with his own instead. Crowley’s outstretched hand fell limply back to his side as Aziraphale felt the demon’s penetrative stare from behind his glasses.

“Don’t leave, Crowley. _Please_.” He spoke softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “Not now. Not like this.”

There was a pause, an uncomfortable tension in the air between them.

“Why?” Crowley asked slowly. There was no anger or malice this time, and it was not demanding. 

_Because I love you. Because I can’t lose you. Because if you walk out of that door now, it’ll break my heart and it’ll be the end of me_. 

“I - I need to explain. Please... just let me do that, then if -“ Aziraphale swallowed, hating the words he was about to say but knowing the demon needed to hear them “-if you still want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

“And if I _don’t_ want to leave?” It was almost a whisper, Crowley’s softness betraying him once more.

_Then I’ll wrap you in my arms and hold you until you feel secure. I’ll tell you I love you and show you in every kiss, every touch. I’ll promise you the world, and I’ll do whatever it takes to give it to you_.

“Then I’d consider myself incredibly lucky and promise to do whatever it takes to make this right.”

“Hmm.” 

Crowley’s expression gave absolutely nothing away. Aziraphale was unsure whether to feel relieved or unsettled. He looked at the demon expectantly, as though awaiting instructions. 

“Shall we sit?” Crowley prompted.

“Erm, yes, of course.” Aziraphale gestured for Crowley to go through to sit on the settee. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, wine, whiskey perhaps?” He asked out of courtesy, manners never forgotten despite the jittery fear and anxiety of the imminent conversation.

Crowley was sorely tempted by the scotch, but thought better of it. He needed to keep a clear head, for now.

“I’m fine for now.”

“I see. Right. Yes.” Aziraphale dithered. He would rather have liked a stiff drink himself, if he was being honest. 

He sat down in his usual armchair, fighting the urge to sit next to Crowley, just this once, assuming he would want some space.

Space was the opposite of what Aziraphale wanted.

He wanted to hold Crowley in his arms, head on his chest, and inhale his woody scent that would give him the strength to get through this conversation. To stroke his thumb over the back of Crowley’s hand and press gentle kisses to the top of his head to affirm his feelings.

But this was not about what _he_ wanted. This was about Crowley deserving honesty, and however difficult Aziraphale found the conversation, it would be far harder for the demon.

He fiddled with the buttons on his waistcoat for a moment, the age-old tell of nervousness.

“Right. So, erm... where to begin.”

“In the beginning?” Crowley suggested dryly. 

“Well, not the _beginning_ beginning. You know. Just the... beginning of all this,” he added with an afterthought, knowing all too well of Aziraphale’s tendency to literally start his stories with the Garden.

“Yes, quite. So. Well... I... you...” he paused for a moment, composing himself. 

“I’d been in the area performing a few blessings, and went out for an evening stroll. I felt a _feeling_ , one of deep despair, and followed it, hoping I could help whatever poor soul I found... but I found you.“ Aziraphale swallowed. Crowley continued to listen in silence, watching the angel through his glasses.

“You invited me in for wine, though you didn’t really say much at first. Then... you started talking, opening up to me.”

Crowley knew the story now, of course. He just needed to hear it from Aziraphale. Try to understand _why_.

The angel continued describing the night’s events, blushing furiously and skirting around the more intimate parts. Crowley watched him with fascination, remembering the blood rushing to his own face and neck with Aziraphale’s words of love and pleasurable ministrations. _How the tables had turned_. The angel had been so confident back then, comfortable in his role of _lover_.

Crowley knew Aziraphale was getting to the worst part when he paused and looked at the floor, twisting the ring on his little finger absent-mindedly. He seemed to be mustering his courage as he took a deep breath. 

A part of Crowley wanted to go to Aziraphale and take his hand, telling him that no matter what he said it would be ok, that Crowley would forgive him. The demon could not, though. He refused to make a promise that he did not know he could keep. Pushing down the conflict within him, he remained still, unmoving, as Aziraphale fumbled for words. 

“When I woke up, I realised what a huge risk I’d taken, showing my feelings so brazenly. I was worried someone would find out. I was more worried though, about not being able to stop it happening again the next time we met, or the times after that. I knew it would get harder and harder to stay away from you... and if you knew I wanted it too, and were to initiate... _something_... I’d be powerless to resist. Goodness, I’m not sure I’d be able to control myself even if you didn’t.

Anyway, I was terrified that if you were discovered... well, I was terrified of what might happen. 

I knew how hard it was going to be to let it just be a one off, to never indulge in such pleasures again. I didn’t know how I was going to manage, pretending it never happened and going back to normal, the constant reminders and knowing how we felt about each other but not being allowed to _be_ with each other. Having that taste of what _could_ be, but knowing it could _never_ be. I couldn’t stand it becoming a burden you had to carry too, Crowley. There seemed no point in us both being heartbroken.”

“How did you live with it? Knowing... what I felt for you.”

“It was... difficult.”

It had been beyond difficult. Aziraphale had never before cried for days on end or despaired for years. No pain had ever come close to the heavy ache he had felt in his heart, that he still felt each time he was reminded.

He told Crowley as much.

“But every time you said we weren’t friends, and you’d go out of your way to prove it... what was I supposed to think about that?”

“Every time I felt myself getting closer, or I thought you might be about to tell me you wanted more... I pushed you away. Again, out of fear. But also out of shame. Shame for what I did, what I took from you. I don’t - I _can’t_ \- “ Aziraphale broke off, head in his hands, finally reaching an impasse.

“Aziraphale, this is... this is so _messed up_ ,” Crowley sighed, running a hand through his flame-red hair for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

“Indeed.” The angel replied sadly. 

Crowley was not entirely sure he understood how Aziraphale had felt able to make that decision. He could understand the angel’s rationale about it not being a good idea for them to have indulged in much more than a friendship. He just didn’t think he could ever have made that conscious choice himself.

But that was Aziraphale in a nutshell. To simplify it, the angel himself was a contradiction in his own right. He denied his greatest desire despite having hedonistic tendencies; he broke rules and was made both excited and terribly anxious by doing so, and he was terrified of doing the wrong thing - including fraternising with a demon, executing unauthorised plans and lying to his superiors - yet actively went out of his way to partake in such activities.

The only thing Crowley _was_ sure about was that Aziraphale’s decision, however misguided, had come from a place of love. It had not been borne out of spite or shame. He thought he was doing what was best, whether it had been the right or wrong thing to do.

It was time to make a choice, but Crowley knew he only really had one viable option.

..........................

“Angel...” Crowley ran a hand through his hair, which had begun to look somewhat windswept. He looked to be in two minds whether to continue or let his next words go unsaid.

Aziraphale looked up, silently beseeching him to continue. Everything had to come out now. There could be no more secrets, no matter how easy it would be to fall into the age-old routine of stopping short of what they really meant.

Crowley looked exasperated.

“Every time you said things, _did_ things, I’d be the one apologising and coming running... I don’t want to lose you, Aziraphale, but I can’t go another six thousand years like this. It’s... it’s...” Crowley trailed off, expression weary with hurt.

Aziraphale looked stricken. 

“Oh, Crowley. _My dear_. I - ” the angel was unsure whether to apologise, whether it would be enough or whether it would sound insincere. It would never be enough, he decided. 

“If you allow me, I’ll show you how much you mean to me every day, and how sorry I am for the way I’ve treated you. I’d spend the next six thousand years trying to put it right. Trying to make up for what I’ve done.” Aziraphale swallowed, then a realisation hit him.

“Only... it’s not something I _can_ put right, is it? I can’t take away what I’ve done. I’ve already taken too much,” he said softly, tears pricking his eyes. 

_He was going to lose Crowley... lose his dearest friend, the one he truly loved more than anything.._.

He heard Crowley sigh, and saw the demon moving towards him through the haze of tears. Aziraphale blinked furiously, refusing to let them fall. 

_It’s not about me, it’s about Crowley, I have to apologise, have to say sorry._..

Then the tears were falling thick and fast, and he heard himself babbling the words over and over.

_“I’m sorry, so sorry, so very very sorry..._ ”

Then strong, wiry arms were being wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close until his face was pressed into the demon’s shoulder, gripping him like a life raft in the middle of an ocean. 

“I’ve been a terrible friend to you. I was afraid, I was a coward. I should’ve treated you better and not let Gabriel and the others get to me,” Aziraphale sobbed into Crowley’s jacket.

“You’re not a coward, angel. It’s complicated, I know. It’ll be ok. Whatever happens now, it’ll be ok.”

Their tears mingled as their unbridled emotions took over, feelings that had spanned millennia finally allowed to the forefront of their minds and swamping them with a barrage of emotion. 

“Not sure whether I _can_ , being a demon and all,” Crowley sobbed, pulling them apart for a moment to cup Aziraphale’s face and gaze into grey-blue eyes. “But I forgive you. I forgive you, angel. _I forgive you_.”

They embraced again, clinging to each other for dear life, neither prepared to let the other go.

When all was said and done, Crowley knew he would always choose Aziraphale. The angel was his true north, guiding him, inspiring him, believing in him. Crowley could no longer keep excusing Aziraphale just because he was an angel, because, especially since the failed Armageddon, he was first and foremost his friend. The closest thing to equals than than an angel and a demon had ever been.

There was still much to discuss, and it would take time to dismantle the remaining walls between them and build up a mutual trust from the rubble. But with both in agreement and finally on the same page, they could move forward together, this time at a pace just right for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the angst and hurt! There’ll be more comfort (and more sex) coming next chapter though.


	3. Chapter Three

They had talked. They had cried. They had talked some more.

_They had kissed_.

Then it all stopped.

Crowley thought they had got everything out in the open, shared every thought and wish and regret from the past six thousand years. But once the conclusive conversation - or _The Conversation_ as Crowley privately called it - had ended, it was almost as though neither knew what to say.

Aziraphale seemed to slowly withdraw; at first it was subtle, and it took Crowley some time to notice the touches then the kisses becoming less frequent. When he _did_ notice, he became worried that the angel might be reconsidering, and started to hold back. 

They almost fell back into the same routine they had before the almost-Armageddon: meet up, share a meal or a walk, and part ways once more. Only this time, each knew what the other felt - or, at least what they had _told_ each other they felt - which, in a way, made things worse. 

Crowley spent most of his time attempting to decipher the angel’s body language and listen for hidden meanings in his words, but each time he came to a dead end. It all came to a head one day, almost four months after The Conversation, during an afternoon stroll in St. James Park.

“Angel...” Crowley studied his hands thoughtfully, deliberately avoiding eye contact with his companion. “Y’know, _before_. When... when all that _stuff_ happened. You said things.”

Aziraphale, who had been looking out over the lake, turned a little to look at Crowley. 

“I did,” he said simply. 

Crowley waited for him to elaborate, assuming he understood, heart sinking when Aziraphale remained silent.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The angel asked eventually.

“Yes - _no_ \- I just -“ Crowley groaned in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. He would have to bite the bullet.

“Do you still feel the same way? About me?”

Aziraphale’s expression shifted to one of concern.

“Of course, my dear. I meant every word and I still do.”

“Then why...” Crowley’s voice almost cracked. “Why don’t you... show it?” 

Aziraphale gently placed his hand over the demon’s.

“I’m sorry if you’ve been worried, Crowley. I didn’t want to - well, push you into anything you weren’t ready for, I suppose.” Aziraphale looked back out over the lake, hoping his touch was not unwanted. “I know I need to earn back your trust,” he added in a whisper. 

He felt Crowley’s fingers curl around his, and they both sat in silence for a moment, holding hands and watching the ducks dabble in the shallows. Crowley leaned a little closer, their shoulders almost touching.

“You know I’ve forgiven you, angel. I still feel the same way about you,” he murmured quietly. 

Something in the air changed between them and the tension seemed to dissipate, though not enough to loosen their tongues further.

Eventually, the evening became colder, and they walked back to the gates where the Bentley was parked, no longer hand in hand, and both wanting just a little _more_.

.............................

Aziraphale was pining for Crowley.

He had spent almost every minute of every day thinking about the demon, and most nights aswell. He found it difficult to focus on the simplest of tasks, finding himself caught in daydreams and waiting, waiting for the phone to ring, or to hear the familiar purr of an engine outside. 

Last week, they had gone to the park and practically admitted they still loved each other. Crowley hadn’t really mentioned anything about wanting anything physical yet though, and when they had originally had The Conversation, Aziraphale had later promised Crowley that he would not initiate anything until the demon came to him on his terms. He had no right, Aziraphale thought, to rush Crowley into a relationship after the revelations.

Unfortunately, taking hints was not Aziraphale’s forte, and communicating emotions was not the easiest of feats for Crowley.

Aziraphale was beginning to wonder whether Crowley was just a little reluctant to initiate anything due to fear or embarrassment, or whether he even wanted that side of the angel at all. 

Before he realised what he was doing, Aziraphale found himself dialling a familiar number, and Crowley picked up on the third ring.

“Aziraphale! How’s things?”

“Erm... things are, things are good, yes,” the angel stuttered, heart leaping and taken aback upon hearing the demon’s voice. Then he remembered: _he_ _had_ _called_ _Crowley_. He suddenly felt rather silly, and remembered why he had contacted him in the first place.

“Yes, so, I was thinking, I’ve not seen you lately. That is to say, not since last week,” he corrected himself, feeling the blush creep up his neck as he thought about how he had practically been watching the clock since.

“Perhaps we could go for lunch. Anywhere you fancy.” Aziraphale said hopefully. 

“Yeah, why not. I know a little place I think you’ll enjoy. Pick you up tomorrow at twelve?”

“I look forward to it, my dear.”

They hung up, and Aziraphale found himself grinning broadly for a few minutes, already eagerly anticipating the following day.

A little way across London, a demon was doing the exact same thing.

.............................

“Ah, this reminds me of Rome,” Aziraphale mused happily as the waiter arrived with a plate of oysters.

Crowley grinned as he helped himself to a portion of the shellfish. He was unsure whether he had gravitated towards the restaurant exclusively for the delicious seafood or whether it was because it brought back memories for him too. 

“Well, in case you were wondering, I’m still a demon. Never quite worked out the aardvark thing. I can do a snake though,” he teased, raising his eyebrows above his glasses.

Aziraphale chuckled as he picked at his food. 

“I can see I’ve successfully tempted you to oysters this time, too.”

They indulged themselves with oysters, champagne and fond reminiscence as they sat, gentle smiles on their faces, feeling a lot more relaxed and comfortable than they had done for some time. The only disappointment for Aziraphale came in the form of a lack of lemon cheesecake, which had apparently been on the menu previously though not today.

Afterwards, Crowley dropped the angel off at the bookshop. Neither particularly wanted their time together to end, yet each was unsure how to go about saying so. It was silly, really - they had been doing this for years. _I’ve got a nice red upstairs, why don’t you come in?_ Or _shall we go for a stroll, the park isn’t far_? 

Now, though, the stakes were higher. Coming in for a drink _might_ lead to close embraces on the sofa, or maybe even a kiss goodnight. Or it might not lead to anything at all, which would be disappointing, though not altogether unexpected. Aziraphale didn’t want to rush this. He wanted to get it right this time, do things properly. He therefore got out of the car, heart a little heavy, but said goodbye with a smile and a cheery wave.

As Aziraphale disappeared into the shop, Crowley let out a growl of frustration. He had anticipated _more_. He was _ready_ for more. He remembered Aziraphale’s promise, that they would only move at his pace. Pulling away, he realised with a sinking feeling that he was going to have to be the one to make the first move.

.......................

The following day, a letter arrived for Crowley.

It was highly unusual for him to get mail, for a start - it wasn’t as though he knew anyone who would write to him. Upon inspection, he had instantly recognised the beautiful italic script on the envelope, and wondered why Aziraphale had decided to send him a letter.

He spent a few minutes just looking at it, sitting at his desk with the large envelope in his hands, a little wary of the contents. Why was he writing to him? Why now?

Deciding the only way to figure it out would be to open it, Crowley did so. As he pulled out a neatly folded sheet of embossed paper, something else fell out, something white, fluttering gently onto the desk.

Crowley’s breath caught in his throat when he realised what it was.

It was a feather.

Not just any feather, though. It was clearly angelic.

It was from _Aziraphale’s_ _wings_.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley breathed, taken aback by the beauty of it and the message it conveyed.

Aziraphale wanted Crowley to have a part of him, something he could keep as a reminder for when he wasn’t there, for when Crowley needed reassurance that a part of the angel would _always_ be his.

He turned the feather over in his hands, marvelling at its softness and taken aback by the level of emotion it had kindled in him. Picking up the letter, he began to read.

 _Dear Crowley_ , it said. _I had the most wonderful time yesterday, and wanted to thank you for sharing it with me.  
_

It went on to mention snippets of conversation they had shared,and Aziraphale’s general musings. 

_If you recall, I had rather hoped to try the lemon cheesecake. As I missed the opportunity, I thought I might try my hand at making it myself._

_If you would like to join me tomorrow for a light supper you would be very welcome. Perhaps around 7pm?_

He had finished the letter with _Yours, Aziraphale._ Although it was a usual form of signing off, Crowley felt a sense of possessiveness at the sentiment.   
  
_Yours_. 

_His_ angel _._

Crowley ran his fingers gently over the feather once more, before placing it on top of the letter that he tucked away safely inside the desk drawer. He felt the first stirrings of excitement for tomorrow, and _something else_. 

_Longing_.

He could bear the angel’s hesitations no longer. Tomorrow, he would have to make his move. 

.......................

At precisely 7pm, Crowley arrived at the bookshop. The front door opened for him and he made his way upstairs to Aziraphale’s flat. As he lingered on the stairs for a moment, he realised he could faintly smell lemons and hear a classical record playing quietly. 

Crowley was unsure what to expect when he pushed the half-open door; Aziraphale had not to his knowledge cooked before and he was vaguely interested in what the end result would be. He was pleasantly surprised when he peered into the kitchen, sliding off his glasses as he loitered outside the door, taking in the ridiculously domestic scene in front of him.

Aziraphale was reaching up to get a pair of wine glasses, which he placed on the counter top next to two white porcelain plates. He opened a drawer, and out came two cake forks which were placed upon them. Every now and again, Aziraphale would dip his finger into a bowl in front of him - which appeared to contain the remnants of cheesecake mixture - and lick it clean. With this motion, Crowley realised he was staring - especially at the angel’s neatly rolled up sleeves which exposed his forearms. 

The flat had suddenly become much warmer; Crowley could not take his eyes off Aziraphale as he watched the angel busy himself, despite knowing it was rather rude to lurk in his friend’s flat unannounced like a secret voyeur. He knew he should say something, let Aziraphale know he was there...

“Crowley! You came.” Aziraphale had caught him off guard, and the demon almost jumped and felt himself blush as he realised the angel had probably felt his presence and been aware he was there for some time. 

“Course I did. You did invite me,” the demon said, trying to avert any attention from the fact that he had just been caught staring. 

“Well, I’m very pleased you’re here. Wine?” he offered, opening the bottle. Crowley took a glass and held it out for the angel to fill. 

“So... this is your fine creation, then,” Crowley said, eyeing the cheesecake as he sipped his wine. He had to admit it did look rather tasty, a deliciously thick layer of cream filling on a biscuit base, with a sprinkling of sifted icing sugar and candied lemon peel adorning the top.

“I made it. The human way.” Aziraphale sounded far too pleased with himself.

“You didn’t use any miracles? None at all?”

“None at all,” Aziraphale said with a smug smile.

“Aren’t they meant to take what, twenty four hours to set?”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to get caught out, and his smile became coy.

“I may have used _one_ little miracle. Just a small one. Although I don’t think it really counts.”

“That’s cheating.” Crowley grinned, raising his eyebrows. Aziraphale looked a little flustered.

“I suppose it may have been a _bit_ frivolous.”

“Bet it’s good though.” Crowley held Aziraphale’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Dipping his own finger into the bowl, he scooped a little of the mixture out and sucked the digit clean, a little slower than necessary and certainly enough to make Aziraphale feel somewhat tingly.

The angel was beginning to feel very warm under Crowley’s piercing gaze, becoming a little anxious that he might do something silly in the charged moment. He turned away, cutting two slices of the decadent dessert and placing them onto plates.

“Shall we?” He motioned to the door and the demon led the way back to the sitting-room. He stopped short of actually sitting down though, almost as if he were waiting for Aziraphale.

The angel realised and dithered a little. He _should_ sit in the armchair. That was what he always did. But Crowley seemed to be waiting for something, watching him. Aziraphale’s legs felt shaky. He saw Crowley give him a pointed look, then glance at the settee. If he had blinked, he would have missed it.

Taking an unnecessarily deep and somewhat shaky breath, he stepped forwards and sat at the far end of the settee. He tried to keep his expression neutral, as though he had not just broken the habit of a lifetime. 

Crowley plopped down next to him, adopting his usual slouch.

If the settee had been any smaller, their knees would have been touching. 

There was a brief pause, then Crowley lifted his fork and took a bite of the cheesecake. 

“Mmm. ‘s good, angel.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, do you think so? I’m ever so glad, I’ve not done anything like this before, I was a bit worried about-“

He cut himself off with a pleased sound as he slipped a bit of his own dessert into his mouth. 

“Not bad for a first attempt, I suppose.” 

They consumed the cheesecake and finished their first glasses of wine, the companionable silence occasionally punctuated by snippets of simple conversation that deliberately remained on safe ground. For once, Aziraphale managed to finish his dessert before Crowley, and seemed to give his plate a look of disappointment when he realised it had all gone. 

The look did not go unnoticed by Crowley. Feeling more frustrated than courageous, he saw an opening, a possibility of an invitation, and decided to try his luck

_Time for a quick temptation_.

Not a demonic one, but a human one, in such a way that could be construed as a flirtation by their standards.

“Want the last bit?” Crowley offered the angel his final piece of cheesecake on the end of the fork, grinning wolfishly.

“Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind...” Aziraphale suddenly felt very warm as he realised that Crowley was literally offering him the dessert, hand outstretched, waiting for him to lean forwards and accept it straight off the fork. Heart racing, he did so, Crowley’s serpentine eyes positively lighting up.

Aziraphale noticed Crowley’s coquettish demeanour and decided to play along.

As his mouth closed around the fork, he looked Crowley straight in the eyes before closing his own as he withdrew, making a contented sound.

“Lovely,” he sighed, eyes still closed. He ran his tongue leisurely over his lips, and Crowley, who had been watching with intent, practically hissed.

“You missed a bit.”

In a heartbeat, the demon had closed the gap between them and flicked his tongue against the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth.

Aziraphale gasped and stared dumbfounded, the sensation of Crowley’s tongue causing the first stirrings of arousal.

Intoxicated by the demon, he leaned forwards to meet him. Unable to hold back any longer, he pressed their lips together softly, slowly, despite every fibre of his being screaming at him to kiss Crowley senseless. Crowley himself deepened the kiss, giving a low growl when Aziraphale flicked his tongue over the demon’s lower lip.

They broke apart briefly, and Aziraphale spoke.

“You were watching me, earlier. When you first arrived.”

“I liked what I saw,” Crowley murmured in response, enjoying the throaty sound Aziraphale made as he kissed his cheek then nipped at his earlobe. As though to demonstrate _what_ exactly it was that he liked, Crowley ran his hands up the angel’s forearms, enjoying the feeling of his fingertips brushing the angel’s bare skin. 

“Hmm.” Aziraphale turned his head to kiss Crowley full on the mouth again. He simply couldn’t get enough of him. This time, the kiss was more open mouthed, their tongues dancing together, the air around them becoming hot and heavy. Crowley was leaning into the angel who was beginning to fall back against the cushions; trying to get closer to Aziraphale, he ended up sprawled on top of him as they kissed with fervour.

Eventually, they broke apart to gaze at each other, and Aziraphale nuzzled into Crowley’s neck. The demon circled Aziraphale’s neck with his arms, hands gently stroking over his shoulders. 

“You took your time,” he muttered with a small smile. “Glad you still want the same thing.”

“I wanted to make sure you were ready,” Aziraphale responded gently.

“Think I’ve been ready for six thousand years, angel,” he chided playfully.

“I‘ve wasted so much time.” Aziraphale murmured, feeling the familiar wave of shame taking over and looking away.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley spoke his name gently, tilting the angel’s chin up to meet his gaze.

“None of our time together was ever wasted. We took what opportunities we could get, even if it wasn’t always as much as we wanted.”

The look of guilt that had become so familiar to Crowley these past weeks flashed across Aziraphale’s features. He opened his mouth, but was cut off before any words came out. 

“No angel, no more apologising,” the demon soothed, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s neck, making the breath hitch in his throat. “What’s done is done, it’s in the past. But this...” another kiss was bestowed a little lower “...this is our present, it’s _ours_ angel, and it’s time to live it.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley for a moment, wide-eyed.

The demon could feel Aziraphale’s body pulsing with desire; the angel was clearly holding back on purpose.

“Angel, please. _I need you_.” 

Crowley’s voice was laced with desperation as he traced lines down Aziraphale’s cheeks with his fingertips, pressing their foreheads together and inhaling the angel’s intoxicating scent of old books and cocoa and _something else_ , something that was irresistibly _Aziraphale_.

“I don’t want to rush you.”

Crowley found it both rather thoughtful and incredibly infuriating that for once, Aziraphale was the one who was worried about going too fast. 

“I’m ready, angel. I want this. Want _you.”_ Crowley pressed more kisses into the side of his throat, nipping gently and causing Aziraphale to gasp as the demon’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin on his neck.

Then the angel struck.

With surprising strength, Aziraphale pushed up and flipped Crowley onto his back, devouring his mouth as he clasped the demon’s hands with his own. They were laid flush against each other, each feeling the other’s apparent hardness through layers of clothing, which heightened the arousal.

After a while, Aziraphale paused and sat back a little, running his hands down Crowley’s chest. Taking advantage of his hands being freed, the demon slid them back around Aziraphale, this time snaking them up under his shirt, marvelling at the feel of soft skin under his cool fingertips.

“May I?” Aziraphale’s hands lingered at the first button of Crowley’s shirt. 

“Oh, yes. Please do,” the demon muttered seductively, lost in the sensation of simply _touching_ Aziraphale.

Within moments, his shirt was off and discarded on the floor; Aziraphale once again on top of him kissing him passionately. Crowley wriggled a little under the angel, managing to unbutton his waistcoat. By the time Aziraphale realised what the demon had done, it was being pushed down his shoulders, causing him to gasp with delight. 

Then there was a sudden, urgent need for them to be _touching_ , to be as close together as possible, and Aziraphale impatiently miracled away his bow tie and shirt.

“I wanted to undress you,” Crowley muttered testily as hungry amber eyes raked over the soft curves of the angel’s body.

“Next time, I promise.” 

The kissing resumed, and the delicious heat from their bare skin pressed together became overwhelming. 

“Bedroom?” Aziraphale managed to gasp out before Crowley captured his lips again.

Crowley snapped his fingers, and they found themselves on Aziraphale’s bed, fully undressed. 

Aziraphale stared, wide-eyed with surprise.

“Now who’s being frivolous with miracles,” he teased.

“Shut up and come here.” 

Crowley pulled the angel down and slithered on top of him, hands roaming his body hungrily and sliding them down to cup his hardness. 

The angel gasped Crowley’s name and instinctively arched into the contact, eyes fluttering closed as the demon stroked his length. He revelled in the sensations of Crowley’s intimate touch, running his hands up and down the demon’s sides, pushing his face up expectantly for a kiss. When Crowley responded to the action, he slid his tongue into the angel’s mouth so _sinfully_ , eliciting an obscene moan that made Crowley wonder whether it was possible to discorporate with pleasure.

“Touch me,” he hissed, pulling back from Aziraphale as he studied him with hooded eyes. The angel was breathing raggedly, his lips deep pink and swollen, looking completely debauched. 

Aziraphale gathered himself and pushed Crowley gently onto his back, positioning himself above him and leaning down to press searing kisses onto his chest. Crowley groaned, bucking his hips in desperation as he tried to create some friction for relief. 

He heard Aziraphale chuckle darkly as the angel made his way further down his body. Suddenly, hands gripped his thighs and Aziraphale’s mouth was dangerously close to finding the source of the heat.

Crowley moaned louder, muttering the angel’s name as Aziraphale took him in his mouth. He surrendered himself to the sensations, tangling his hands in the angel’s soft curls as his head bobbed up and down. 

Aziraphale delighted in the taste of his lover; in the sounds he was making and the way his body arched and writhed under his ministrations. Suddenly, Crowley tugged at his hair harder and the angel released him, looking up at the demon questioningly.

“Aziraphale, _please_. Want you inside me,” he managed to gasp. 

The angel burned with desire at his words, and oil was quickly miracled up and applied to his fingers. Wasting no time, he circled Crowley’s entrance, gently rubbing then slipping the digit inside. He watched as Crowley’s eyes widened as his fingers moved and massaged of their own accord as Aziraphale became hypnotised by the demon’s changing expressions of euphoria. 

“More...” Crowley muttered, breaking the angel’s trance. He obediently added another finger, stretching and massaging, kissing down Crowley’s body as he did so. When he slipped the third finger inside, he moved back up to kiss his demon languidly on the lips until Crowley could bare the slow pace no longer.

“Need you inside me _now_ , angel. _Please_.”

Crowley was practically begging, and Aziraphale found himself almost painfully hard from the words spoken with such ragged desperation. 

The angel sat up, helping Crowley to position himself. They shared a look; one that conveyed a shared vulnerability, trust and above all else, _love_. Aziraphale bent to kiss Crowley once more; a slow, soft brush of the lips for reassurance. 

With a firm yet gentle push, Aziraphale sheathed himself inside the demon, gradually inching further as he watched Crowley’s face for any signs of discomfort. Their eyes met, and the angel gasped as he was flooded with emotion by Crowley’s gaze.

The demon’s eyes were that magnificent gold once again, searching the angel’s face with urgent need, needing to tell him -

“ _I love you_.”

Aziraphale’s breath caught and he instinctively flexed his hips, causing Crowley to gasp and throw back his head rapturously. The demon clung to Aziraphale, fingers digging into hips as he attempted to pull them impossibly closer.

“I love you so much, angel.”

Aziraphale moaned softly, the sensations and words combined heightening his arousal.

It had been _so long_. So long since he had heard those words, spoken under these circumstances. So long since he had had the opportunity to show Crowley just how much he meant to him.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long, but was determined to make it all the more pleasurable for Crowley.

Cerulean eyes blazing, Aziraphale gazed down at his demon for a split second before capturing his lips in a deep, open mouthed kiss. The feeling of Crowley’s slightly forked tongue licking the inside of his mouth made him push into him even further, the want to _melt_ right into the demon making him giddy. 

_“I love you too._ ”

Aziraphale felt drunk. Drunk with lust, with love, with every touch and kiss and thrust. His body was running away with him, moving with an ancient muscle memory, his mind no longer telling him anything, processing anything other than _Crowley_.

_I need you, you’re mine, you’re mine_ was all he could think, all he could hear as his thrusts gained momentum, before realising he was repeating the words over and over out loud in gasps. He felt the pressure building, stronger and stronger, pushing him towards his release. 

“Crowley,” he breathed, forcing himself to slow a little. Aziraphale shifted enough to reach a hand between them to grasp Crowley’s aching length. “Come with me, please... need it to happen t-together,” he stuttered.

The demon opened his hooded eyes fully, and ran cool hands up Aziraphale’s back to tangle in damp curls. He pulled the angel back down for a brief, searing kiss, then broke them apart with a whisper.

“Together.”

It was all Aziraphale needed to hear to continue; he resumed his rhythmic thrusts, quicker and harder this time, slamming into the demon as he furiously worked his length with his hand.

The pressure increased; the dizzying pleasure clouding everything, every sense, every coherent thought, every feeling. Aziraphale could hear himself chanting Crowley’s name like a prayer, the demon writhing and moaning beneath him. 

Suddenly, their pleasure began to peak, and Aziraphale managed to cry out before he was overcome with sensation.

“ _Now, Crowley! Crowley... Crowley...”_

The angel gasped and clung to his lover as the intense high tore through him; he heard his name on Crowley’s lips as the demon came with him with a shout. Waves of pleasure crashed around them as they gently rocked together, riding out the sensation until they were both utterly spent.

..................................

“That was _wonderful_ , my dear,” Aziraphale murmured in his demon’s ear as they lay together, basking in the afterglow. All traces of their activities had been miracled away, and they were now cocooned together under warm blankets, their naked bodies pressed together and radiating a delicious heat. 

“Mmm... ‘s nice,” Crowley muttered, sounding on the verge of falling asleep. 

“Nice?” Aziraphale spoke with mock indignation. “It was positively _delightful.”_

Crowley grinned lazily, opening his eyes and giving Aziraphale a gentle squeeze. He felt the angel give a little wiggle as he beamed back at him.

Crowley remembered someone once saying that the eyes are like the window to one’s soul. Looking at Aziraphale, he could certainly agree with the statement.

Aziraphale’s eyes conveyed at this moment a mixture of emotions. There was love, most definitely, and devotion, but what struck Crowley the most was the sheer _joy_. He had seen Aziraphale happy, of course, but without the freedom to truly be himself, to truly be able to be at complete ease, it had either been overshadowed or short lived. Now though, the angel radiated pure, unbridled joy, and Crowley felt it rolling off him in waves. 

“You seem happy, angel,” he mumbled softly, stroking his thumb down Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“Oh, Crowley,” he started, turning his head to press a kiss to the pad of the demon’s thumb. “Of course I’m happy. I’m with you.” 

“Well yeah, but... you seem _really_ happy.”

Aziraphale heard the unspoken question in the words.

_Do_ I _make you happy?_

He pressed a soft kiss first to Crowley’s forehead, then gently tilted his head to brush his lips against his left cheek, then the right. 

“My dear... when I’m with you, my world changes... you become my life, my breath, my very essence. You _are_ my world.” 

Crowley gave a small gasp and Aziraphale chuckled, half expecting a rebuke for his overly romantic notions. When none came, he leant in and captured the demon’s lips once more.

“You make me happy, Crowley.”

Aziraphale rested his cheek against the top of Crowley’s head, overjoyed that they had finally arrived at the point where for once, everything was simply _just right_. 

“You make me happy too, angel.” 

With that, they shared another chaste kiss before Crowley bowed his head to nestle against Aziraphale’s shoulder. Here, with his angel, he felt relaxed, safe. _Sleepy_. 

The demon felt his eyes closing again, and this time, he was powerless to resist. He gave a contented sigh, the warm weight of the angel’s arms holding him in the moment. There would be no forgetting this time. Both of them would commit this night to memory, using it as the foundation on which they would build their blossoming relationship.

Crowley allowed himself to drift into slumber, confident in the knowledge that he would wake up in the morning next to his angel, the new memory they had made together being the first of many to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it! As always, comments are very welcome and appreciated (as are kudos if you enjoyed it)!

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this started out as a one shot then I had the idea of the little twist at the end and just couldn’t leave it at that without a resolution.
> 
> This was my first time writing a more detailed sex scene. It was a little daunting but I enjoyed it. Always said I’d never venture into that territory, but here we are :)
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed chapter one!


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